


But it’s not always the most advisable course of action to run away

by victoriousscarf



Series: This Revolution of Our Blood [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Revolutionaries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3485057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before the manifesto went to the press, and the night before Draco started his new position, he found himself sitting across from Harry Potter and arguing over grammar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But it’s not always the most advisable course of action to run away

**Author's Note:**

> It's been more then a year since I updated this story? (November 2013 to be precise) Which is really too bad, because I've never really stopped thinking about it or writing snippets or talking about it or planning it. It's just... not getting written at a very speedy pace, sorry. 
> 
> Anyway. Enter the Slytherins. 
> 
> (Have I mentioned blatantly this series is basically complete wish fulfillment on character development on my part? Okay? Okay)

Draco got a job in the minster’s department the same week Hermione, Harry and he finished the manifesto.

Percy Wesley put up a fuss, but Shacklebolt pointed out that they needed at least one former and clearly reformed death eater to show the dawn of a new era. And Draco Malfoy had never been a good death eater, and was too much a coward and too attached to his family name to take any stupid risks.

The night before the manifesto went to the press, and the night before Draco started his new position, he found himself sitting across from Harry Potter and arguing over grammar.

“I’m still not sure it’s a good idea,” Harry said and Draco almost tore out his hair as he glowered across the table.

“Potter, I swear on Merlin’s balls… We’ve been arguing over clauses for a week now,” he hissed.

Mouth quirking, Harry shook his head. “No, not this. I understand this. But you at the ministry.”

“We’ve been over that too,” Draco said, shuffling quills off to one side and laying the parchment sheets in front of him so he could be sure they were in the right order before he started copying the words out onto fresh sheets.

“We have,” Harry agreed, watching him loop letters onto the page, script elegant and clearly trained more so than his untidy sprawl had ever been. Hermione had left only minutes before to meet Ron for dinner and go over possible cell locations and bolt holes. It sounded horribly unromantic but they were insisting it would be at a romantic restaurant. “It’s dangerous.”

Draco’s eyes darted up and then down again, checking a crossed out word that Harry had written over before continuing his copying. “Excessively so. But someone has to do it.”

“Don’t—”

“Potter,” Draco sighed in annoyance. “I won’t do anything stupid. I like my own skin far too much for that. I know how to be careful.”

“You know how to be a wreck,” Harry said and Draco looked up again, eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me?”

Harry blinked before he shrugged. “Sorry. That was low.”

Draco hummed and bent his head over the parchment again, setting aside the first page and starting the second. For several long moments Harry watched him in silence. “Here,” Draco said, holding out the first page without looking up. “You could at least proof this if you’re just going to sit there.”

Harry accepted it and did not look down as he held the page. Eventually Draco looked back up, eyebrows quirked.

“Do you really think they would be so angry?” Harry asked. “The ministry, I mean. We’re already talking about things like it was during the war and they haven’t even reacted yet.”

For several long heartbeats Draco just looked at him. “It is possible,” he said finally. “That they might not attack us, that they might be willing to listen. But honestly? There have been people pushing for reform since before the war. Do you know what happened to most of them?”

“They were silenced?” Harry offered and Draco snorted.

“If they weren’t instantly demoted, they often disappeared,” he said. “Or were shoved out in the cold. Or were branded as insane, madmen no one should bother listening to. Even the dear Quibbler was allowed because it was mad, rarely subversive. Umbridge and Fudge were the iceberg tip, obvious and dangerous but hardly the only problems. Yes. I think they will react like we are the enemy.”

“We,” Harry started and paused, looking at Draco. “Well. Most of us were the heroes of the last war.”

“Ah,” Draco waved a hand. “Except that that was a war against an outside enemy, a dark lord that stands for everything wrong. They never had to look at themselves or what they were doing.”

“I suppose we’ll see tomorrow,” Harry allowed and Draco hummed, bending his head down again.

-0-

Within a week, though the ministry refused to allowed the manifesto to be printed or distributed by their owl networks, almost every household in England had managed to obtain a copy and read it.

The ministry proved Draco right by thundering out against the manifesto, insisting that anyone who wished to fight another war rather than compromise –and by that they meant bow to the ministry line—would be as dangerous as Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Draco tried not to laugh as he smoothed down the Daily Prophet in front of him, a cup of tea at his elbow.

“How predictable,” he murmured and tensed as a shadow fell across the paper. “I am in no mood for company,” he said, not quite daring to look up.

“You really know how to get yourself in trouble, don’t you?” an amused voice said and Draco’s eyes snapped up to see Blaise standing with his arms crossed over his chest and looking caught between amused and annoyed.

“Blaise!” he said in surprise, Pansy in a bright yellow and orange scarf standing next to him. “Pansy. I thought you were still traveling the world,” and by accident some of the bitterness seeped back into his voice as Pansy pulled out the chair across from him and sat.

“World was nice,” Blaise said with a small shrug before he also sat. “But it’s not always the most advisable course of action to run away.”

Draco’s mouth twisted and he shrugged. “It seemed like you thought it was a good idea at the time.”

“At the time, it was,” Pansy replied.

 “What are you wearing?” Draco asked, because the snide comment was easier to get past the lump in his throat than anything else.

Pansy plucked at the scarf and shrugged. “I decided green wasn’t the only color to wear,” she said. “And we picked this one up in…?”

“Spain,” Blaise finished for her. “While we were waiting for the boat to Morocco.” He waved a hand, both at Draco’s expression and at the waiter who tried to approach the table. He rattled off an order for actual British tea, which he insisted to the confused waiter he had dearly missed and waited to make sure the waiter had left before leveling Draco with a look. “Now. What are you doing?”

“Joining the ministry is a perfectly acceptable job,” Draco started and Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Darling,” Pansy said, hands folded in her lap. “That’s not what we meant.”

Draco tensed, tilting his head. “I’m not sure I’ve done anything else foolish lately.”

“Sure,” Blaise said. “That might be true, but you have to remember who proofed your essays for almost seven years.”

“And who has listened to all your impassionated rants,” Pansy added and Draco froze.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he tried to brush off.

“Don’t be daft,” Pansy snapped.

“That lie would honestly only work if I hadn’t heard you talking to Potter,” Blaise said and Draco was barely breathing. “When the battle was over, in the courtyard.”

“And what were you doing there?” Draco murmured.

“Cleaning up the dead,” Blaise said, and his tone was matter of fact though his posture and expression were both rigid.

Draco’s eyes flickered between them. “We’re doomed,” he said finally. “If I’m already outed so quickly.”

Pansy shrugged. “Not many people would recognize your stamp so clearly,” she said. “If that helps at all. We’ve always been there, Draco. Did you really think you were going to hide this from us?”

“Is that why you came back?” Draco asked, looking between them.

“Good timing,” was all Blaise said in reply as tea was placed in front of him. “Ah. Yes. It’s been a long time to go without a proper cup of tea, you know?”

Draco bit back his next comment, and only nodded.

“Anyway,” Blaise said. “So you got Potter onboard, which probably means his cronies as well. Just how exactly prepared are you?”

Draco’s eyes flickered between the two of them and a slow smile spread across his face, not one that was content or pleased, but sharp and cunning. “Perhaps more so with some more slytherins.”

“Obviously,” Pansy said. “Who else is better at planning in the shadows?”

Blaise’s mouth twitched, like he was about to point out they had not agreed to take part in any mad scheme. Instead he clicked his delicate porcelain tea cup with Draco’s.  


End file.
